Ascension
by Haberdashing
Summary: Transcendence AU. The beginning of Alcor's "god" stage.


Alcor barely noticed at first.

There were so few people who summoned him for mere trifles these days. He had become a legend- or, rather, a bundle of legends. Alcor, who could fell empires on a whim. Alcor, who destroyed a whole city- or a country, an island, a continent- because a group of cultists had asked him to. Alcor, who could not be bound by the greatest bindings known to man, who could turn you inside-out for speaking a single word out of line.

And a great many of those legends were true.

But people had forgotten the other stories, those that were as true as the warnings but were very different in tone: Alcor, who would rescue children meant as sacrifices, take them to safe homes and eat their nightmares; Alcor, who would come for a sacrifice of sweets as gladly as for a sacrifice of virgin blood; Alcor, whose sneezes were adorable and reminiscent of a kitten.

Those who were not scared off by these tales tended to have grandiose dreams, world-changing desires. They often wished for things they could not afford, things they did not deserve.

He would put on a show, for his own amusement as much as for theirs, and the surrounding area, if not the entire world, would end up transformed at the end of it, one way or another.

So the slight disturbances that his presence caused initially escaped his notice.

It was not Alcor (all-knowing, all-powerful, holder of a hundred titles besides) who first noticed the pattern, but one of the reincarnations of Mizar- human and fleeting and frail and limited and still more observant than him regarding so much that truly mattered.

When Alcor was jolted out of his monotony, Mizar was a young girl named Esther with dark hair and dark eyes but a wardrobe filled with vibrant pinks and purples. They had met before, but all those meetings had been utterly mundane, rehashings of old conversations, re-enacting events that had occurred a thousand times over.

He came to visit her just after a fledgling demon had had the nerve to challenge him, and as he floated in front of the young girl, the demon was covered in blood and bits of flesh, none of it his own.

Alcor was prepared for her to question his blood-stained state, to protest wildly as he enlightened her about what his being a demon truly meant, to slowly grasp that her friend was not the innocent playmate that she had envisioned, to accept or reject the entirety of his existence.

He was not prepared for the first words out of her mouth upon his arrival to be, "Why are you all glowy?"

Alcor glanced down, taking in his appearance as it actually was rather than as he had foolishly assumed it to be. She was right; he was glowing, not in the black-and-gold brick pattern that he had grown to know all too well but across the entirety of his physical form, the light's hue the white-yellow of a mid-sized star in its prime. The specks of blood and guts that he had been dwelling upon showed only as splotches that marred his great light, sunspots filling the surface of this newborn star.

"I a̷m, aren't I?"

The girl's aura swelled and swirled around her, filled with the deep warm colors of confusion and curiosity.

He knew her request before she could voice it.

Wiping away the blood took no effort at all, a skill honed time and time again over the years. But that glow- that strong glow that seemed to envelop the room, envelop _him_ \- was something the demon had yet to encounter, and ridding himself of it took a good deal of concentration and determination. Slowly, though, as he focused his mind and will and raw energy on the task at hand, the light emanating from him began to fade, the room dimming, until all that was left was a mere flicker.

Alcor turned back to the girl, his face forming a wide fang-filled grin.

And the room filled with light again, brighter than ever before.

Alcor's mind filled with a sizable number of obscenities, each one more colorful and obscure than the last, words which each had a storied history long forgotten by their creators, which the human girl in front of him would only understand as meaningless sounds if he let her hear them.

It had been a while since Alcor had discovered something that he could not do. He did not care for the sensation.

"You're _still_ all glowy."

Alcor sighed as he looked back at Esther. "I͉̮ ͓͖̯̮K̕N̷͓̤̪͚O̷W̞!̡͖͖"

The young girl cowered as the demon spoke. Perhaps he had been a bit too open about his frustration. None of this was the child's fault; she meant no ill will towards him, and her comment had not been intended to cause trouble. What was that old phrase again- don't murder the messenger?

"I'm sorry, Esther."

Esther made eye contact with the demon and nodded once, tersely, before wrinkling her nose and putting her hands on her hips. "And no shouting! Shouting is bad, okay?"

If anybody else had dared to speak to him in that tone of voice, had tried to order him around as if they owned him...

But this was Mizar. This was his Twin Star.

Even when she was being an insolent little child.

Perhaps _especially_ when she was being an insolent little child.

"I'm not̴ shouting. I'm speaking lo̵udl͏y."

"No speaking loudly, then."

Alcor sighed. "No speaking loudly, no glowing... what e̛ls͡e do you want me to stop doing, pray tell?"

"You can glow. It's a pretty glow. I like it."

The demon grinned, a wide, toothy grin that showed off his gleaming fangs. "Well, if y͘ou̕ like it, then maybe I'll k͟eep it."

The girl giggled and ran up to Alcor, wrapping her hands around his waist, murmuring about how nice and warm he was as he absentmindedly played with her hair.

As the pair continued to converse, the setting of the sun went by unnoticed, though the light from the window had been all that illuminated the room previously. Alcor was bright enough now to replace it.

And soon enough Esther was gone, replaced by a different Mizar, just another link in the eternal chain of reincarnations. But the glow that she had noticed that day endured.

And life went on, more or less.

And Alcor kept busy in his own way. There was so much to do in this world, so much he _could_ do; why focus on what he couldn't change? There were deals to make, demons to fight, souls to harvest- there was, quite literally, a world filled with opportunities for him.

And if he was glowing now, well, it just added to the legends about him that the mortals spread, another sign that he was a force to be reckoned with. It was a symbol of his immense arcane power too obvious for even the densest human to miss.

And, indeed, the stories spread.

And centuries passed.

"Stop knocking stuff over when you come visit, will you?"

This time around, Mizar was a boy named Mars with messy red hair and big ears and a deep love of science, who was currently standing with his hands on his hips, looking Alcor in the eyes and glaring.

"I _just_ cleaned this place up and now it's a mess again! That's not very considerate of you, you know."

Alcor resisted making comments about how he could have done much worse- _had_ done much worse in the past, to so many people, so many times- the memories flickered by, unprompted, unwanted- instead saying only, "T̕h̢at was ̧me?̢"

Mars made a wise, sweeping gesture that encompassed the expanse of his room. "Just look!"

The demon glanced around the boy's living space. The bookshelf in the corner was no longer stuffed to the brim, but filled with glaring empty spaces where a dozen books had fallen off, now huddled together in a disheveled pile on the ground. A pair of sunglasses- which the two had discovered the hard way did nothing to conceal the demon's ever-brightening glow from the human eye- had fallen off the boy's dresser, scratches forming along its lenses on impact. A white garbage can had toppled over, spilling dust and glitter and scraps of paper onto the floor.

 _He'd_ done all that?

"Whoops."

"Whoops isn't going to cut it. You have to put all this back now. No weaseling your way out of it."

Alcor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And my̴ p͠a҉y҉ment?̵"

Mars rolled his eyes, dug around in his mini-fridge, and threw a pint of Dippin Dots at the demon, who caught it a moment before it would have made contact. "Good enough?"

Just before opening the ice cream container, Alcor snapped his fingers, and the items that he had knocked over returned to their proper place, prompting a wry smile from Mars.

A second passed, and then a container of rainbow confetti popped open, spraying the room in colorful debris, and a number of dust balls escaped from underneath the boy's bed.

Mars sighed. "Can you _try_ not to do that?"

"Ma͞ybe̶."

"Well, I would appreciate it."

Alcor kept that in mind the next time he showed up to speak with Miz- _Mars_. The demon hadn't meant to knock the boy's stuff over before, but this time he made a conscious effort to appear quietly, inconspicuously. After appearing, he waited a few seconds to see what damage he had caused this time. No pillows fell. No glitter scattered.

He grinned.

 _Ka-thunk!_

Alcor glanced in the direction of the sound, and his grin disappeared as he identified its source. A thick book with a faded red cover lay on the floor, its spine broken in half, several pages torn out and scattered in shreds nearby. The rest of the story came to him easily- it was a family heirloom, a book of fairy tales that had been read out loud by parent to child for generations, and it had been standing on the very top of the bookshelf, its position already a precarious one, just before his arrival.

He could feel the history in it, the memories that permeated the book's every page. It was a valuable object, perhaps not in human money, but certainly in another, more universal currency.

And he had torn it apart.

"M҉iz- Ma͢r̶s, I'm sorry, I c̕an-"

"Nah, it's cool." The boy waved his hand in the air dismissively. "I always hated that old thing anyway."

Mars smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Maybe he should have stopped then. But he didn't. He _couldn't_. Alcor wouldn't abandon his Mizar that easily, just because of the loss of an old book. It was an inanimate object, insignificant in the face of the bond he had with his beloved twin star.

They would just have to deal with a few misplaced items here and there. That was nothing compared to all the other trials and tribulations that the twins had faced together, right? Maybe they should just meet out in the open more often. She could always use a little appreciation for the outdoors anyway.

They made do, Mizar after Mizar. Rare was the reincarnation that turned Alcor away for such minor matters as breaking their personal belongings or making their eyes ache looking at him. Their bond was stronger than that.

Not so for the rest of the world, though. The summons trickled to a halt, the mortals slowly learning that reining in such great power was a fool's errand at best. Alcor was, increasingly, left alone with his Mizars, with the mindscape, and with his thoughts.

When the rare summons did come through, the demon pounced on it out of a mix of curiosity and thirst, the need for his answering machine now a thing of the distant past. Even the weakest calls were usually enough to amuse him, let alone those done by "professionals", those deluded enough to think they knew what they were dealing with.

The former was the case with Bailey, whose summoning circle design was simplistic and lopsided, though the intent was clear enough. It was a design that had almost been lost to the ages, one that the demon had nearly forgotten about, but recognizable nonetheless.

Bailey was a Mizar, that much was obvious. Their hair had streaks of black and blue and green, and they were wearing a large number of bangles and piercings and a lime green bow tie. And they had- bless their reckless little soul- set up a summoning circle for him in the middle of their bedroom for, of all things, concealing the star tattoo that they had recently gotten from their mother.

He didn't even bother with greetings and niceties. Best to get to the point.

"I̛ ca͜n̛ ma̴k͝è ͞th̸e͏ tąţto̸o̡ ͞t҉ur͡n҉ ͜in͢v҉is̢i̵ble͟ ͜a͏t ͜will ͠if yo͟u giv͜e m͞e ̢you̡r ̡me͏mo̵ries̢ of̛ ̀y͟ou̴r̢ ̛p͜et ̡r͠òck.҉"

"But I didn't even-"

"Y͞e̴s̕ ̸o̷r ņo?̀"

"How did you even-"

"Y͡ES ́O҉Ŕ ̕ŃO?"

"I..." Bailey closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out before opening their eyes, looking up at Alcor- he couldn't help but notice their squinting- and nodding. "Okay. Deal."

The two shook hands.

"Y̛ou̢ a͟r̀e͘ l҉uc̴k̡y,͝ ̨Mi͢z͟ar.͠ ͏M̕ośt͢ who̵ c͟o̶me to̶ ̨m̛e̡ wi͟th̷ ̢súch͝ ̶t̕ri̧f͏les͢ s͞o̧o҉n ̕r̸e̴gret͜ ̴i͏t͏."

Bailey's eyes widened at the mention of Mizar. Alcor glanced around the room and saw that the demonology book that his presence had torn apart page by page, the one that had brought them to use such an old and neglected summoning circle, contained a good deal of information about the connection between himself and Mizar, information more accurate than most that such humans had access to.

"I don't suppose you could glow a little less? That's _really_ hurting my eyes." Bailey cracked a grin as they added, "You could blind somebody going around all lit up like that!"

Four reincarnations ago, Mizar was a girl named Lyra who, due to a series of unfortunate events, he had had to stay in close contact with since she was only four. She grew up to be a long-haired musician with a love of flowing dresses who could play a mean cello, and he remained her friend as she grew up, as her music career flourished, as she flitted between relationships before deciding that romance wasn't for her after all.

And he was there when the doctor said that her vision was getting progressively worse, and he was there when, just a week after her twenty-second birthday, the same doctor said that her vision had deteriorated to the point of being legally blind.

The doctors had no explanation for her condition, no idea what had happened to cause it, let alone how to reverse it. The mages that her foster mother made her consult were almost as clueless, sensing dimly that her eyes had been affected by powerful magic but knowing little else. But Alcor knew, and Lyra obviously did, too, deflecting any mention of how he might be connected to her blindness with a wave of the hand and a giggle.

"No҉.̨"

"Okay, well, I do have these..." Bailey ran to their nightstand and retrieved a pair of scarlet sunglasses, the frames dented from Alcor's appearance but otherwise still intact.

"No҉.҉" the demon repeated, thinking back to all those who had tried the same tactic. Sunglasses had done nothing to shade Mars from Alcor's light, and they hadn't helped Dave either, or Nadia, Olive, Tyrone, Mal, Abelard, Becky, Erity, Lin... And they stretched out in front of him, names, faces, lives, a whole world of experiences contained within each one, and yet they always ended so soon, too soon, leaving each one as just a tiny fragment of a single beautiful whole...

Alcor was snapped back to reality by Mizar's speech.

"So, if I'm Mizar, what does that mean about..." Mizar- _Bailey_ , their name was Bailey this time- trailed off and waved their hands in a vague, sweeping gesture connecting the two of them. "Us?"

He had so much to say to this precious, naive youth, so many things to convey about what "us" meant... And yet... and yet...

The demon made a decision, one that hurt him to the core.

"Th͡i͏s҉.̶" He conjured a pendant that contained a pine tree symbol and flung it at their head- it hit Bailey square in the forehead, and they scrambled to pick it up. "S̵umm̧o͝ņ m̷e ̢if͞ y͟o̸u ̵ne̸ed ̕me̡,̡ ̨a̷nd ̀I'll̢ ̵c̢ome̸ ̶t̶o͝ he̸l̷p. ҉Tha͠t's ̷a͟ ͡p̛r̵o̴m̴ise, and I ̶ḑon'҉t ̕ma͜k͡e͞ thos͠e l̴i̡ģh̀tĺy."

Bailey nodded, eyes still wide. "Okay. I... I appreciate that."

"I̸ shoul҉d͞ ͞h̷o̶pe͝ s͠o͟."

And before he could hear Mizar's response, before he had time to reconsider, Alcor jumped into the mindscape, out of view, left with his racing thoughts as his lone companion.

He still watched over them. That much he couldn't resist. He floated off in the distance, far enough away that Bailey could write his presence off as a trick of the light or, at night, just another twinkling star in the sky. But he wouldn't intervene, not unless he _had_ to, unless Bailey's life was in danger or they requested his presence.

He had learned his lesson. If he got close to another Mizar, he'd risk hurting them just by sticking around.

It was better this way. For their sake.

The years of their life flew by.

It was on a moonless night, one where the human eye could have made out thousands of stars if not for the streetlights obscuring them, when Alcor saw it.

Bailey's hair was a violent, unnatural shade of orange now, and they had gotten several more tattoos which they had stopped bothering to hide from their mother. Tonight, they wore a pastel yellow bow tie- colorful bow ties were kind of their _thing_ \- and the skin of Bailey's arm was practically invisible under the obscene number of sparkly bangles they wore.

And a man in jean shorts was holding up a gun to their head.

And Bailey was desperately trying to reach for the pendant that Alcor had given them, to summon him before their attacker noticed, but the action would have taken several seconds at the very least, seconds that Bailey didn't have to spare, and Alcor felt a rush of vindication because if he hadn't been watching then those several seconds could have cost Bailey their life.

Alcor gathered up all his strength as he flew onto the scene, ready to punish the one who had threatened the life of his beloved twin star with every method of torture that he had at his disposal.

"H̲̅ͪ͂̏ͦ̚Ơ̘̫ͤ̿̏̇́̐ͦW̲̜̼̦͇̯ͥͥͤ ̵̼̻̜͙̗͎̗̾͒ͪͯ̽D̤͉̈A̮̬̳̪͖̤̳͞R̝͉̰͑ͭ̌̾ͤ̓͠E̡̳̙̪̝͖̩ͤ ̮̜͖͉ͯ̅ͧ̒̀ͅY͚͇͙͍̖̹̥̒̈̍̇̑ͬ́O̶̟̩ͧ̓͆ͮ̾Ǘ͔̜̹̥̭̣̥ͤ̂ͦ͆̽͆-̊҉"

Alcor stopped speaking as he realized that the intended listener was no longer present. The gunman had been vaporized even without Alcor consciously willing it, gone from the face of the earth, no longer able to attack his Mizar in this lifetime.

Alcor couldn't feel sorry for the man's death. It was necessary, a means to a noble end. And he would come back soon enough. They all did.

But Bailey, too, was nowhere to be seen.

The demon focused on his connection with Mizar and felt it flicker and fade, then rise up significantly stronger than before.

And he knew.

He knew what he had done.

He knew who would be waiting for him in the mindscape, reassuring him that it wasn't his fault and that he was still the same dork as always, though he knew better.

The demon heard screaming, and only some of it was his own.

His shadow sank into the pavement below, leaving a mark that would endure through the ages, a dark patch of land on which nothing could be built or grown. Each golden tear left a splotch in the ground that dug several feet deep into the concrete. The surrounding skyscrapers shook violently from side to side.

He threw a fireball and watched as it passed through several buildings as though they were paper before flying off into the horizon.

The world was weak, and he was strong.

Alcor gave in and let Mizar console him, eventually. But not long after, she had to leave the mindscape, leave the one place where they could be together in perfect safety, and return to the ugly realm of physicality.

He tried not to seek her out. He really did.

But what is a demon without a love of temptation?

Alcor kept a safe distance this time. He floated thousands of feet in the air, far enough away that his light blended with that of the sun almost seamlessly. But he could still see her as clearly as ever, take in the gleam of the sunlight on her ebony hair, the fleeting marks that she left in the wet sand with every footstep.

And his slightest whim was enough to drive the water from the ocean waves uphill, a thin stream effortlessly overcoming the force of gravity and snaking its way inland. The girl quickly noticed the trickle of water's unnatural movement, and she followed it- Mizar always was a bundle of curiosity- as it zig-zagged, forming one triangle, then another, then turning downwards and doing the same motions in reverse before rejoining the ocean waves.

He might not be able to meet her in person any more, but that didn't mean they couldn't communicate.

The symbol that the water drew in the sand was an old one, one that had connected the two when they had first met, long, long ago. But times had changed, and much of the lore from those early times was no more. He would have to teach her its meaning, for there was no one else left to do so.

But he was, and would forever be, her pine tree.

She giggled and stuck her hand in the stream.

The demon had secured her attention. Now he just had to decide on what to do with it. What should he say to this youth who knew nothing of her heritage, nothing of the glimmering speck of light above?

He could get into more lengthy philosophical discussions when her soul returned to his realm after this life. What he needed now was something short but sweet, a conversation starter rather than a whole conversation. What he needed was an introduction.

Alcor settled on three simple words and carved them into the sand.

 _Hello again, sister._


End file.
